


everything i am is everything i should be

by spyydr



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Time Skip, Self-Acceptance, Slice of Life, Trans Caspar von Bergliez, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, in this house we stan caspar, mostly focuses on caspar's transition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23220226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyydr/pseuds/spyydr
Summary: Day by day, Caspar is becoming more of the person he wants to be.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	everything i am is everything i should be

Always the second choice. Always second in line. Always a second thought.

Always the second son.

Caspar punches the training bag again, forcing out his frustration and his helplessness. He’s never asked for much. It was never his goal to own large swaths of land, or eat fabulous meals, or lie down in piles of riches.

But is it really too much to ask for someone, anyone, to pay attention to him?

His father, always away at war or business. His brother, constantly locked up in his room, studying and preparing to take on the noble title. And his mother, barely a wisp of a woman, wasting away her dwindling energy on the care of those louder and more powerful than her.

None of them ever notice. They didn’t notice when he earned top marks at school, or when he fought a man twice his size and won.

They didn’t even notice when he changed his name.

Perhaps it’s a blessing that his family didn’t pay much heed to his change. Caspar told them, after a long and painful gathering of courage, that he was a man. And in response, they nodded, muttered a few meaningless remarks, and went about their business. They never treated him any differently, or reacted in a particularly negative way, as he feared they might, and yet, this provided little comfort.

Is he really that insignificant?

Screaming out in fury, Caspar unleashes a powerful right hook into the bag. It swings wildly, threatening to come loose from its chain, before reversing course and catching Caspar in the chest. The impact makes him stumble, then collapse to the ground.

At first, he feels no pain. Just cold shock, the flat feeling of surprise. And then his ribs start to burn, both from the hit and the horrible, inescapable feeling of just being wrong. His body feels wrong. Everything feels wrong. If he could just change himself, if he could just…

He lies there, drawing in ragged, shallow breaths. All this work, all this time, and he still gets knocked over by a sack filled with sand. How is he to prove anything if he can’t even train properly?

With much difficulty, Caspar pulls himself up on unsteady feet. The ground sways underneath him, and the torches flicker a little more than they normally do, but he feels adequate enough to limp back to his room. As expected, he doesn’t run into anyone on his way up. They’re busy, obviously. Too busy to comfort him.

He’s better off alone.

-

“There is no way I’m drinking that.”

Caspar’s sitting on the cot in Manuela’s office, staring at the goopy, opaque potion on her desk. It has a little strip of parchment attached to the front, his name written in neat letters, so there’s no mistake. It’s his. It has to be.

But why does it have to look like that?

“I understand your apprehension,” says Manuela. “But keep in mind, most potions don’t look appetizing at all. This one’s not nearly as gross as, say, the one for hair growth.”

“But doesn’t this one also make my hair grow?”

“Well, yes.” Manuela absentmindedly plays with the tassel on her robe. “But mostly on your chest, arms, legs, and occasionally your face. I was talking about the cure for baldness, and at your age, I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

“What else does it do?” asks Caspar. The more he hears about this, the more unsure he becomes. Of course he’d like for his body to change, but he still wants to be certain.

“Hmm, let’s see.” As she lists the effects, she counts them off on her fingers. “Your voice will be deeper, you’ll likely see an increase in muscle mass, and your face may change slightly. Oh, and you’ll probably start sweating more.”

“Um, okay.” Caspar doesn’t mind the sweating bit very much. He already spends most of his time outside, sparring and wrestling, so he’d say he’s fairly used to the feeling. As for the other things, they all sound good to him. In fact, that’s exactly what he wants. It almost sounds too good to be true.

Manuela picks up the potion, swirling it around in the light. “I feel like I’m forgetting one more thing. What was it, what was it… oh, I remember now! You might also get a little taller, almost like another growth spurt.”

Taller? That’s all Caspar needs to hear. He leaps off the cot, planting his boots firmly on the floor. “I’ve made my decision. Sign me up!”

“Glad to hear it,” says Manuela, writing a quick note in her registry book. “Remember, this is only the first dose. Make sure to come back on the first of every moon to get more. And if you ever have any trouble, please come find me again.”

Caspar nods, trying to rein in his excitement enough to hear to instructions. Manuela hands him the potion, and he all but breaks into cheering, finally allowed to make his new life.

He dashes down the hall, feet barely able to catch up with his body. He’s on his way. Nothing’s going to stop him now.

-

Caspar glances around, making sure he’s alone on the balcony. He wouldn’t say he’s ashamed of himself, or that he’s got something to hide, but it just feels better to have privacy for moments like this.

Once assured that he’s alone, he pops the cork off the bottle and takes a sip. It’s his fourth month of taking the potion, and he’s definitely noticing the changes. His classmates have, too, and they’ve been nothing but supportive. He appreciates their encouragement and understanding, as well as how they’ve never used it as an excuse to look down on him. He couldn’t ask for anything more.

Unfortunately, he can’t exactly say the same for some of the others at Garreg Mach. The archbishop, for one, scares him. She’s never done anything particularly hostile, but the look of her empty, glass-green eyes makes Caspar hesitant to stay around her for very long. In fact, he’s not quite sure what any of the church members make of him. Best case scenario, they’ll never ask.

He suspects he’s not the only one in this situation, either. At the start of last month, he bumped into Felix, of the Blue Lions House, walking out of Manuela’s office. He, too, was holding a similar bottle to the one Caspar holds now. And the other day, when he was helping Dorothea move some furniture around, he noticed yet another bottle on her shelf. Though he hasn’t asked them directly, out of respect for their privacy, it brings him comfort to know that he’s not alone.

Soon, he notices the potion has left his mouth a bit dry. He turns to go inside and get a drink of water, only to run into a wall of armor.

“Whoa there, kiddo! Almost ran you over there!” A gloved hand pulls Caspar to his feet, and he spots a smiling, bearded face.

“Alois? What are you doing here?” asks Caspar, before he can stop himself.

“Enjoying the view, of course. I’m assuming it’s the same for you?”

Caspar nods hastily, hiding the bottle behind his back. “Yup. Yeah. That’s what I was doing.”

“It really is a lovely day,” says Alois.

“Oh, yeah. Really lovely.” Internally, Caspar curses himself for being bad at lying. Honesty and integrity are important, for sure, but those morals are just coming back to bite him.

Alois nods, then scratches the back of his head. “Say, whatcha got there?”

“What? Where?” Caspar plasters a grin onto his face, hoping to look as innocuous as possible.

“Behind your back, sonny,” replies Alois.

There’s no getting away with it now. Tentatively, Caspar slides the bottle out from behind his back and opens his fist, revealing the small, half-drunk potion.

Alois is silent for a moment, then breaks into a barking laugh and claps Caspar on the back. “I remember that stuff. Nasty, but it does the trick. Go ahead and run along, now. You won’t hear a word from me.”

Confused, Caspar thanks him and heads inside. Could it be…? He shakes the thought from his mind. It was still too close a call for him, and he’s lucky it was Alois and not some other member of the church. From now on, he’ll make sure to stay in the safety of his own room.

-

The lights in the classroom are off. Caspar isn’t sure what to make of it, since he’s almost certain a lecture was scheduled to start right now. But he forges on, preemptively taking on a fighting stance.

As soon as he steps onto the tile, the lights flick on. A chorus of voices shouts, “Happy birthday, Caspar!”

After his eyes grow adjusted to the sudden brightness, he looks around, at a loss for words. His classmates and professor are gathered around a desk, with cake and presents on top. A few of them are wearing silly conical paper hats. Of course. A surprise party. How could he have forgotten his own birthday?

Honestly, he’s blessed to have friends like them. And when they smile at him, genuinely appreciative of his presence, and he can’t help but smile back.

The rest of the day is filled with fun festivities, from party games to cake to karaoke. Hubert’s singing prowess is the most surprising of all, and it’s rare to see him let down his guard like that. Caspar, for his part, enjoys the ride as much as he can, hoping to make the energy last.

Once the party’s wound down, Caspar finds himself sitting at a desk, nearly nodding off. Even his boundless enthusiasm couldn’t quite keep up. In the silence, Linhardt approaches and hands him a small package, wrapped in plain brown paper. He clears his throat. “I went ahead and saved the best for last. It’s a gift from all of us.”

Caspar sits up, his attention drawn. In his hands, the package bends, indicating that something cloth is inside. “For me? Are you sure?”

Linhardt nods, serene as ever. “Of course I’m sure.”

Tearing off the wrapping, Caspar finds a sleeveless top, woven from strong, tight fabric. It’s not unlike the one he’s wearing now, under his shirt, except it’s better in every way. It looks more comfortable, more durable, more everything. In fact, it’s perfect. He stares at it for a moment, then looks up at his friend.

“Don’t look at me. We just thought your old one was getting ratty, that’s all,” says Linhardt, feigning nonchalance.

In response, Caspar stands and pulls him into a hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

After a moment, Linhardt returns it. “You’re welcome, Caspar. Happy birthday.”

**Author's Note:**

> find my socials [here](https://fischerstars.carrd.co/)!


End file.
